Mother of Fire
by Liraeyn
Summary: Two strangers. One night. The beginning.
1. Fire and Ash

Disclaimer: I don't own Warriors. Except for one of the books (The Sight), before it vanished. But the names are (sort of) my own invention.

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Author's note: Charlotte was a cat at a shelter I once visited. I put her into my story because I think she deserves mention.

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Charlotte they called her. Short black fur, white whiskers. Bright emerald green eyes.

Her housefolk were kind enough, but too busy to give her much attention. Charlotte didn't mind, though- there were plenty of things for a cat to do around the house, outside in the garden. When she wanted attention, though, she took it.

Hunting was one of her favorite pastimes, though she quickly learned that her housefolk did not want her to bring her acquisitions inside. She was one of the "wild gang" of felines, always ready for a fight, ready to defend her territory. The few intruders, who did not think to avoid her wrath, never forgot it.

But one was different.

* * *

Charlotte was patrolling her domain, when she picked up an unfamiliar scent. She sniffed. Male, no distinguishable trace of housefolk or territory, making him a wanderer. The cats who held no territory, merely roaming from place to place as the fancy took them.

She followed the scent deep into the underbrush, delicately stepping over thorns. Brushing aside a plant revealed a clearing in which sat a bright orange tom, looking like fire in the sun.

"You're in my territory!"

He turned to look at her, revealing eyes that were as blue as the sky, striking against his fur. He made no sign of aggression. She cautiously walked toward him, then gasped. His left hind leg was matted with blood, and he held it at an awkward angle.

"Hello, there."

_Is there such a thing as love at first sight? _ _Maybe not, but he's cute. _

"Who are you?"

"My name is Smintheus."

"I'm Charlotte. What happened to your leg?"

"I made the mistake of entering the territory of the forest cats. They are wonderful fighters."

"Forest cats?" Charlotte was curious, but she suddenly noticed that it was getting dark.

"Do you want to come to my house? There's food, and it's a warm place to rest that leg…"

He smiled at her.

"That sounds nice."

* * *

They snuck in through the cat door, making sure that Charlotte's housefolk were elsewhere. _They are so unobservant,_ she thought. _I could probably get away with anything._ The thought opened up possibilities, but it was kind of disappointing.

She led Smintheus to her food bowls, apologizing for the not-so-tasty fare. He assured her that it was fine, and consumed what would probably take her three days to handle.

_He must have been starving,_ Charlotte realized. _Couldn't hunt because of that leg…_

Later, after Charlotte's housefolk were asleep, they curled up on the couch, talking late into the night. Smintheus told her about the forest cats, how they lived in groups, all taking care of each other, fighting, hunting, and such…

She listened for hours, until it was so late everything was still, waiting for the sunrise.

"Charlotte?"

"Mh?" She was half asleep.

"I like it here, and I like you, but I'm a wanderer, a loner, you know? This just isn't right for me."

"I understand. Really, I do. But you could stay for a bit. One night?"

"I'd like that."

* * *

They woke up in the early morning. In the dawn light, Smintheus' pelt glowed fiery orange again. _Fire and ash,_ Charlotte mused, looking at her own clear black fur.

They snuck out the same way they came in, again without Charlotte's housefolk noticing. Back out in the yard, they groomed each other one last time. Smintheus' leg looked much better than it had the day before.

"Goodbye, Charlotte."

"Goodbye, Smintheus. Take care of that leg."

"And you take care of your housefolk. They can't manage on their own."

With that, he was gone.

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Author's note: I am attempting to write somewhat-romance for the first time. Any constructive criticism would be welcome. To be continued… I'm thinking a twoshot.


	2. Sparks

Disclaimer: If I owned Warriors, they would have made it into a movie by now.

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Charlotte walked back to her house, feeling suddenly lonely. Smintheus was gone. But she would never forget him.

One of her housefolk was standing at the door, waiting for her. He picked her up, rubbing a paw over her fur. She purred, warm with love. _I liked you, Smintheus, but you were right. I belong here. _

* * *

Smintheus prowled through the forest, taking care to avoid the Clans. They wouldn't let him off so easily a second time. He flexed his injured leg. The night's rest, together with Charlotte's careful grooming, had worked wonders, but it was still not quite up to normal.

He remembered Quince, a young she-cat with whom he'd had a similar relationship. She'd been nice, but Charlotte had somehow struck a different chord, as though someone had wanted them to come together. As though there was more significance to their actions than either of them had realized.

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Two months later…

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Charlotte lay on her side on some towels in a closet, purring happily. She looked down. Six tiny bundles lay next to her, contentedly sleeping.

"Snowy." She gently touched the first kitten, a fluffy white tom, on his head with her tail. _He looks like my mother. _

She moved on to the next one, a black tom with white on his front paws and under his chin. "Tuxedo," she whispered, remembering a word that her housefolk sometimes used to refer to that pelt pattern.

The next two kittens were orange tabby she-cats with yellow stripes. The only difference between the two was that one of them had a black tail tip. She became Tibby, and her double, Tabby.

Fifth in the line was a golden-brown tabby with the same white markings as Tuxedo. She looked so much like Charlotte's little sister, the smallest one in the litter, who had barely lived long enough to open her eyes and look at the world, that Charlotte's heart twisted painfully.

"Princess."

The lone remaining kit was Smintheus' junior, as bright as fire even in the dark of the closet. Charlotte knew, somehow, that she could not give him the proper name, but he needed a name nevertheless.

"Rusty."

She surveyed her family proudly.

"Sleep, my darlings. Soon enough you will have to face the world. As for you, Rusty, I somehow know that you will do great things. Princess, you will play a part in them. The rest of you- well, we all have a part to play. Perhaps this is mine."

Soon, Charlotte joined her children in slumber.

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Author's note: Smintheus is a title of Apollo, a mythological god of prophecy and (of all things) mice. It is best translated "mouse-catcher". A great name for a cat, I think. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!


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